


take up my message from the veins

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen, Selectively Mute Link, Zelda-centric, im setting this up i think for an au, the champions are just minor characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She can see it, then. The hero foretold, clad in blue and wielding the sword that seals the darkness.





	take up my message from the veins

It starts with five. The champions are strong, some of the strongest that Hyrule has to offer, and the princess knows this.

Still, in her heart, she nurtures doubt.

The screech of steel on steel, of arrows on armour, are sounds often heard from Zelda’s study. The groaning of centuries-old machinery is somewhat new, but it gives her hope for what is to come. Before, watching the the experiments performed on the ancient guardians was something she’d do in her spare time, when she felt the need for a breath of fresh air. Now… there isn’t time for such things. She leaves the poking and prodding to the members of the Sheikah clan, in the hopes that their ancestral ties might uncover something new – although she certainly hopes that by now they’ve moved beyond poking and prodding. There isn’t time enough for that.

However there is, apparently, time enough to pray, and time to waste on the knight – Link. He still hasn’t come into his own. Zelda gazes down at him, fists clenched, and wonders at the fate of her kingdom if this is all she has to show for her efforts. A boy soldier wielding an ancient sword, crumbling relics from a time long past, and a sealed power within herself that she’s beginning to suspect isn’t there. She can hear the others speaking amongst themselves as she utters meaningless words, a fanfare of flattery and prayer showered upon the knight before her. She wonders if they doubt her, just as the rest of the realm does. A failed princess and her onion knight… No. She trusts them as they do her. Urbosa, Daruk, Mipha, Revali – they would never.

The divine beasts prove to be somewhat of a struggle, but they come along slowly. Daruk manages to make his beast move, and Urbosa has discovered the potential for wielding lightning in hers. Mipha and Revali, well… Getting Vah Medoh to take flight will be a whole new task in itself. Goddess above, Zelda wishes she could spend more time inside the ancient beasts, studying their architecture inside and out. How such a craft was lost over thousands of years was lost on her – shouldn’t a society advance its technology, not backtrack so far that all knowledge of such a thing was lost, asides from a cryptic prophecy?

They uncover more and more shrines across the land, none of them accessible. She has the feeling that the slate she holds is the key, but it refuses to open the way for her, so the shrines stand all over Hyrule, hallowed ground forbidden to her, another reminder of her shortcomings. They discover one, different from the others, that opens with the slate. What’s inside must reveal something, and when a soldier dips a calloused hand into the pool in the cave his skin knits together and he withdraws a hand as smooth as a child’s.

The knight is still an issue. He does his duty well – too well, shadowing her like the bodyguard she never asked for. When he deems her safe – and it’s always _his_ decision, or her father’s, never her own, because god forbid she take care of herself or have any semblance of free will – he disappears. One warm summer night, curiosity having bested her, she traces him, follows him through the castle and out to the training ground, where she watches him unsheathe the legendary blade and practice his form. Zelda has been around swords all her life, and she can tell as she watches him heave and sweat, his back towards her – it’s too heavy for his lithe form. She returns the next night, and the next, and the next, to confirm her suspicions.

She starts making preparations, just in case. The sword had chosen him, apparently, but everyone makes mistakes. Perhaps putting more effort into a backup plan, in case the notion of the all-powerful hero falls through, will ensure their victory against the ancient evil known as the Calamity Ganon. Zelda can’t deny that he’s _growing_ , at least, becoming more and more proficient with each passing week – but there isn’t time. He isn’t growing fast enough, isn’t thinking hard enough – he still follows her around like a lost dog, shadows her every move.

“I’m _fine,_ ” she snaps, stamping her foot on the shrine she stands upon. He merely blinks at her, balefully, and shuffles after her. She knows she’s being childish, but this is her father’s work, she knows it, and it’s not _fair_ that she be treated like a toddler when she’s apparently the only one thinking about the future of Hyrule in its entirety.

Zelda admits she stops paying attention to the knight. He still trails her, irritatingly, but she accepts that there’s nothing she can do about it. She stops observing his training. It’s futile, she feels. There’s no time left to waste on him.

Still, it doesn’t stop her from ditching the knight one night to race to Gerudo Town in search of Urbosa. It’s not a big deal. Men can’t enter the town, anyway, so it’d be a waste of time for him to loiter around outside like all the other greasy Hylians looking for a way into the impenetrable city. She’s doing him a favour, allowing him to spend some time alone with his blessed sword, training himself – not that it matters much. She’s set on finding another way to defeat the calamity. She can’t depend on him any more than she can depend on the so-called sealing power that supposedly lies within herself.

And if that power is to awaken at any time, isn’t it more likely that it would do so in a time of need? Such as… Being pursued by red-clothed assassins intent on spilling her blood? All in all, not the best of decisions, especially armed with nothing but a dagger and the hope that the goddess might take pity on her. She’s preparing for her own death when he arrives, and the _sching_ sound his sword makes her cry out.

“Link,” Zelda gasps, and he just blinks balefully at her and nods. It’s his duty.

She can see it, then. The hero foretold, clad in blue and wielding the sword that seals the darkness. He’s not even looking at her now, focused on the remaining attackers, and she can’t even spare them a thought because _he’s done it_. He’s come into his own.

They become something of a pair. She allows herself to admit that maybe she underestimated him, allowed the nettle of her own shortcomings to affect her view of him – although, perhaps leaving him alone and letting him come to his own conclusions may have helped. She digresses. It’s not important now. With her knight – the Hero – _Link_ – at full power and growing with each passing day, she can focus more on herself, much as she longs for another way. Still, now that he’s able to wield that blade, she feels far safer exploring the furthest reaches of Hyrule, and for good reason. Zelda stares over the ledge they stand on at the myriad of corpses staining the canyon – monsters, obviously, creatures of darkness – and tries to connect the furious hurricane of a knight with the boy she’d watched heave around a sword far too large for him.

There’s no time for reminiscing, however. All over the kingdom, these attacks grow in frequency and strength, and icy fear grips Zelda’s heart, for this can only mean one thing. She tells herself she’s ready, she’s prepared, she has her Champions and her Knight and her Guardians and her Divine Beasts – but even now, with the rise of calamity so close she can taste it, her accursed power remains sealed away.

Still, when one can catch a break, one seizes it with an iron fist. Zelda still wishes to be a scholar above all else, and she drags her knight around with her to gather research whenever and wherever she can. Herbs, flowers, critters, ancient technology – if she can learn more about it, she will. And, of course, she would never pass up the chance to flaunt her endless knowledge to someone like Link, who isn’t foolish, or uneducated, but the point still stands that she has witnessed him drink from the castle moat without a thought spared for the myriad of creatures that – well. That isn’t the issue. But she won’t put it past him to eat raw frogs, and she may as well take notes on how it affects him when he does.

Autumn arrives, and with it comes the rain. They’re wandering around Lake Hylia when a downpour hits them, and in the interest of health and safety they take shelter under a tree, Zelda taking the opportunity to tinker with the Sheikah slate while Link practices his form. She watches him, thinks about his point of view. Had he wanted this? Had he thought about this possibility when he took up his father’s mantle? What if it was expected of him, to become a knight? What if he’d gotten to where he wanted to be and realised he hated it? Would he have still become the hero? Would he have journeyed as far as he has today? Would he have doubted himself? Would he have _despised_ himself, thought of himself as a failure, a misjudgement of his royal birth, a plague among the land and the scourge of the goddess and–

If that was the only thing he was ever told, would he have chosen a different path?

Now that Zelda doesn’t have to worry about Link’s growth, she can focus on her own self-doubt. Or she will, once she’s done with her research. The guardians are actually controllable, now, and surely the Divine Beasts are on the same path. She loves the work that comes with uncovering their secrets, loves staying up late at night to find the exact measurement of the cog that will allow the guardian to fire a beam of scorching light, loves the joy that comes with the champion’s own work with their Beasts–

Her father doesn’t agree. He still acts like she’s a child, like she ought to be grown up by now but isn’t and he’s losing patience with her. She’s trying. Nothing has come of it, but she’s _trying_. She’s doing her best. Perhaps that’s why it’s so painful. She’s wasting her time. No more excuses. No more Guardians, no more Divine Beasts.

She’s not forbidden from seeing her Champions, however. Urbosa takes Zelda’s shoulders in hand, guides her away from whatever ancient script she’s studying to lay her in bed, strokes her hair from her forehead the way her mother used to all those years ago. Daruk clasps her hand at every meeting, engulfing it in his huge paw, and offers encouraging suggestions, smiles, laughter. She doesn’t know how he does it. Mipha heals her headaches, softly offers songs to ease the stress, guides her to goddess statues hidden within her own kingdom. Revali, as self-important as he seems, arrives faithfully at her window whenever she needs it, offering his own back and his gale whenever she needs to escape.

And Link… He’s always there. He stands by her, sits behind her, accompanies her wherever she may go. He – as embarrassing as it is, considering her first impression of him – grounds her, quite frankly, reminds her of why she must forge onwards. He takes her hand when she needs, offers his shoulder when frustrated tears well in her eyes, carries her to safety when she collapses in frozen springs. She doesn’t know what she would do without his comforting presence.

Her seventeenth birthday draws near. There’s only one option left, and it’s all she can hope for, that the answer to her troubles lies on the peak of Mount Lanayru. Mipha only has encouraging words, and although Zelda appreciates them, they feel empty. She shouldn’t be relying on some last resort, not this close to the end. There isn’t enough time. If it doesn’t work…

They wait for her, by the gate. The only one to accompany her is Link, because why wouldn’t he? … It’s futile, either way. She shakes her head at Daruk’s pleading enquiries, winces as Revali utters a curse under his breath. _… No power at all?_ He’s saying, and she apologises, but it’s empty. She’s been apologising all her life. She’s run out of sincerity. Urbosa, calm and powerful as ever, speaks booming words, _it’s not like that was your last shot up there,_ but it was. It really, really was. She doesn’t have anything left.

The crash leaves them all unbalanced, fighting to keep upright – Daruk grasp’s Urbosa’s wrist to keep her from slamming to the ground, and Link takes Zelda’s shoulder in hand, stepping in front of her.

 _This is the end,_ she thinks, as Revali cries out in midair. _It’s here._ She’s dizzy, unbalanced, shocked to her very core. They never had enough time. Daruk is calling out orders, a natural leader, and she thinks _that’s my job_ but can’t speak except to cry out like a child.

_There must be something I can do to help._

The rain is relentless. It thunders overhead, soaks her through as she falls into the mud and sobs into Link’s arms. They’ve already lost. The others are gone. She felt it, deep in her heart, and her longstanding suspicion that the champions nurtured a mental bond is confirmed when Link chokes on a cry, stumbles to his knees.

“I really am just a failure!” Zelda sobs, unable to stop herself from beating a fist into the mud. All it does it splatter more of the muck over herself, and she doesn’t care, it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts._

Link gazes at her and blinks, balefully. He’s never offered a word to her, even when he carries her soaked and exhausted form from a spring in the middle of winter but now he grasps her shoulders and whispers in a voice hoarse from disuse, _I’m sorry._

It doesn’t help.

He’s still dying.

They’re everywhere.

She begs him to run. He’s the key to Hyrule’s survival, not her.

It’s never been her.

A Guardian, once one of the hundreds that she watched brought to life, turns its inhuman gaze upon them, and this is different from the time in the desert, with the Yiga clan. This time there’s no knight to save Zelda. The one she had is dying in front of her.

**_NO!_ **

They collapse in front of her, crumbling as the light pierces their bodies, and that’s– it’s– it’s bloody _late_ is what it is, but she can’t think about it now because she hears the thud behind her and Link is dying, her knight is dying, there’s blood everywhere, his stupid sword is _pulsing_ –

The shrine. She orders the Sheikah to take him there, and Purah tells her that she will ensure his survival, and Zelda believes her. She needs to get to the castle. With what she has, she can surely stall the calamity long enough to wait for Link’s resurrection, even if it kills her.

It ends with one. She’s not the strongest fighter in the world, but she’s all they’ve got to offer. In her heart, a fragment of hope blooms. She will prevail.

**Author's Note:**

> i made an ao3 acc for this lazy thing lmao
> 
> title is from imagine dragons believer
> 
> please leave comments omg.. if u wanna talk ask for my tumblr url


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